


Rabbit’s Foot

by sb1495



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, First Aid, Flirting, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Nothing explicit, Original Character Death(s), Pre-Relationship, Superstition, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Volume 7 (RWBY), other characters are mentioned but not enough to tag, tragic backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26529307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sb1495/pseuds/sb1495
Summary: “Are you superstitious?”Clover tilted his head, blinking once. Twice.“I used to be.”Clover and Qrow are out in the outskirts of Atlas terrain, icy and injured after a botched mission. As they wait out in a cave for help to arrive, Qrow decides to pry into Clover’s personal life for a change.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen & Clover Ebi, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 56





	Rabbit’s Foot

“Are you superstitious?”

Clover tilted his head, blinking once. Twice.

_‘How unexpected.’_

Qrow could read the thoughts clear on Clover’s face, earnest and honest, as he allowed his own curiosity to show. Perhaps a bit of a teasing tone flitting under the surface of his question, but only a hint. While Clover considered it seriously, he readjusted his hold on Qrow’s arm and waist, supporting his tired, wounded body while trying to keep the two walking upright. 

“I used to be.”

He stated it plainly, as if there was nothing else to it; a comfortable answer that didn’t seek conversation. His tone might’ve been convincing enough for most, but the seasoned spy wouldn’t have it. 

“You mean to tell me with all that shit you carry around that you just _stopped_?” A disbelieving scoff escaped, a supposedly endearing sound lost to the winds of the mountain. The terrain wasn’t too snowy, but the risk of getting frostbite wasn’t forgotten given their weakened auras. Despite the large gash in his own side and raw cuts on his right hand, Qrow’s eyes focused on the small streams of blood trickling off Clover’s forehead and arm, the two making tiny crimson trails in the snow. Clover chuckled breathlessly, glancing down at his proudly displayed clover pin as the silver glimmered in the fading sunlight.

“Well when you have luck-based powers,” he mused, his easy tone returning, “your outlook on these sorts of things changes. I’m sure you can relate.” Qrow sneered a bit as Clover threw the man a cute wink. The bastard had blood dripping down his face and still had energy to be cheeky. Times like this made Qrow forget that they were so close in age. 

The narrow path up the mountainside wasn’t meant for regular travel; while the dead grass was stamped down enough to reveal a rough trail, ice and snow spotted the footholds, and one slip could easily spell their end. But a cave was in sight, and so was the theoretical moment of reprieve from the cold sting of Atlesian weather. Beyond calling for backup and waiting, Clover didn’t specify a plan. After all, this mission was just a bit of recon and some hunting, nothing special. They had a pack with a first aid kit and some general supplies, but nothing for the long-term. They’d be fine, yet Qrow still silently pleaded that they could at least make it to the cave before collapsing.

An ominous crackle from the frostbitten rock above resounded, and the ground suddenly felt unsteady. Merciful forces never really listened to him, Qrow bitterly mused to himself. Clover adjusted his stance while Qrow hissed a resigned ‘shit’ under his breath.

“This!!” Clover quickly squeezed his arm around Qrow’s waist, the latter wincing and exclaiming something in protest as he deftly pivoted the two of them around. Whipping Kingfisher’s hook towards a nearby crag, the two huntsmen swung across as the cliff gave way and crashed where they previously stood. Qrow grunted as they landed, both panting lightly as the cave was just within reach. The pain in his side was searing, but he begrudgingly welcomed it in the face of plummeting to their demise. Under his breath he managed to wheeze ‘show-off’ before Clover spoke up. 

“THIS… is a device I use for my semblance,” Clover smirked, his voice laced with pride as he reeled his weapon back. “To focus and influence it. I even tempered it myself. So I suppose you could tack it as a superstition, in a way.” He punctuated his sentence with a squeeze around Qrow’s waist, which earned another scoff. He felt ruffled as he plastered on his best unimpressed look, but his lack of any outright offense only strengthened Clover’s conviction to play. Cocky bastard. If he could walk properly without needing to be held up (and honestly, he could, as he insisted through gritted teeth just earlier) he’d huff away.

“How do you know whether that was your semblance or mine?” Qrow retorted coldly. Clover sighed, their little game sidelined again. 

“I guess in the end it’s all about perspective,” Clover’s eyes lingered on Qrow’s for a moment longer than needed before he turned away. “But we made it out fine so I wouldn’t worry about it.” Qrow tried to keep from slumping too much, obviously not as convinced as Clover, only straightening out as they finally came to the cave mouth.

The interior was impressively spacious, the cooled stony walls reaching at least a couple of stories tall with tunnels receding far back into twisted caverns. Ice sprawled inwards from the entrance like moss, reaching where it could, halting in the deeper areas. While dust and small rock would occasionally shift and fall, none of the stalactites looked threatening or unstable. Small, green puddles gathered in scattered crests, frost gathering on surfaces closer to the outside. Some scattered foliage, albeit sparse, provided a surprisingly fresh aspect to the dreary shelter. It was far from an ideal cover, but better than freezing to death outside, even if they could hear skittering just out of sight.

Gently, ever gently, Clover led Qrow over to settle down against a smoother part of the cave wall. The guy even tried to adjust Qrow’s body to sit up comfortably as he was lowered. If Qrow wasn’t careful, he’d offer his vest as a blanket. Ugh.

“I’m not going to break,” Qrow grunted. “Just grab me the medkit so I can patch up while you call Ironwood or whatever.”

“Ohh no, it’ll be easier if I patched you up.” Clover took out his scroll, the various blips and beeps echoing against the cave walls. “At this angle, you’ll likely just exacerbate the wound further.”

“I’ve been in this game for a while, this isn’t the first time I’ve been stabbed in my side like this. I’m all grown up.” He punctuated it with a sly grin, resisting the urge to chuckle. Yet when he turned towards Clover, the expression he pulled nearly startled him into silence. It’s a mixture of trepidation, of annoyance and… guilt? Clover huffed through his nose and shook his head sternly, the brown tufts on his head somehow settling perfectly back into place. God, this guy was like a brick wall that smiled and said please and thank you. Qrow settled back with a sigh.

“Alright well what about the other two?” The topic was shifted back, Qrow not ready to let his curiosity slip out of his grasp quite yet. If he couldn’t get his way with taking care of himself, maybe he could at least get the rest of the story. Sure enough, Clover’s hand stilled above his scroll, not meeting Qrow’s gaze quite yet. “That shitty horseshoe you throw around and that rabbit’s foot.” Clover absentmindedly wipes away at the blood on his brow, pressing one last button to send the SOS before putting away his scroll. 

“Believe it or not,” Clover recollected, briefly stretching his legs out in a moment of rest, “the horseshoe was a gift I received from Marrow a couple years back. I think it was originally a joke gift, but when I earnestly accepted it and started to experiment with it in battle he seemed secretly happy. Not to mention...” Clover bit back a wide grin. “It proves to be a great tool for—what did you call it? Showing off.” Qrow sputtered and scoffed, jerking his head away in defiance. Clover on the other hand looked too happy, obviously relishing the game being in his favor.

“This...” Clover paused, his eyes resting over the rabbit’s foot on his hip, taking a second to collect his words. “This, on the other hand, is just a keepsake.” 

Qrow’s eyebrow quirked up. While his features remained characteristically gentle, Clover’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. By the time Qrow registered it, Clover already started standing and walking away, as if to physically signal a topic change. Qrow waved his hand in disbelief.

“Wait wait, a keepsake? That sure sounds like a story.”

“Just a keepsake.”

“Gods, stop with the bullshit. Y'know, for all the questions you ask _me_ , you can’t just leave something like that—”

“Mr. Branwen.”

He bristled with the immediate instinct to tell Clover to cut that shit out—he’s an older man but he’s NOT a ‘Mr’ by any standards and he’ll FIGHT—and turned to find him gesturing towards a first aid kit in his hand. And the bastard had the decency to look a little smug. 

He clicked his tongue, carefully lifting his vest and untucking his shirt enough so the gash was free. He still grunted as the pain in his side was renewed, the feeling too familiar for comfort. Clover placed the kit down to open, kneeling beside him to inspect what was needed. His callous fingers were delicate as they grazed along the frayed threads of the cut fabric, and Qrow had to keep himself from sighing. His brain— yes, his analytical, tactical huntsman brain, obviously— pulled his line of sight up his gloved hands, over his bloodied forearm (the lug didn’t even aid himself first?), up his sturdy bicep and along his collarbone to his square jawline and—WOW he had to stop right there.

Faced with the option of continuing the cycle of ogling (analyzing) while Clover treated him, he opted to close his eyes and take a deep breath. 

He tried again to think of a plan, to take advantage of a moment of what should’ve been peace and quiet, but he felt absolutely wired as his tired body was patched up. Too aware of the body just beside him. He took deep breaths as Clover cleaned the blood, hissed at the cool feeling of petroleum jelly on the gauze sponge, and tried desperately to will every muscle in his body to relax as he felt Clover’s arms brush against his chest wrapping the gauze. Clover whispered a few apologies between his shifts and motions, like he was bandaging a frail bird’s wing rather than Qrow’s shallow hip. 

The moment would be downright tender if Qrow didn’t find the situation so downright annoying. Two injured huntsmen, both stranded in the middle of a wasteland, with only the barest minimum of supplies. And wouldn’t you know, they’re both too stubborn to let up on throwing themselves into danger. Though he’d argue his partner was the more reckless of the two. Oh! And did he mention that he’s literally a magnet for disaster? Gods save him, Ruby and Yang would surely scold him when they found out, ignoring that they’ve spent years charging into danger and that he was an adult. He’d be tempted to keep it a secret, but he knew they’d find out somehow.

He finally opened his eyes when he heard the crunch of dirt and gravel sifting under boots. Clover’s back was towards him, patching himself up closer to the entrance for better lighting, and Qrow opted to take a quick inspection of his bandages. If nothing else, he could definitely say the scout knew his first aid; the clean and taut gauze almost looked picturesque. 

But from his peripheral, he saw the bandages on his right hand were particularly bright red. Goosebumps prickled his arm. Quickly tamping down any initial fears of hemorrhaging, he lifted his palm up to confirm his suspicions.

A scarlet bandana, delicately tied around his palm.

Geez.

Sure enough, as Clover returned with his cuts properly bandaged, his forearm was otherwise bare. He swallowed down any snarky comments, knowing they would likely come out unconvincing, blowing away his bangs in a huff. Clover unceremoniously sat himself down by Qrow, crossing his legs together.

“I’m sorry for letting that happen to you, Qrow.”

Qrow blinked twice. Clover’s face was downcast, staring at his lap in a clear show of shame.

“What?”

“Leaving you open for that Manticore attack.”

Ahh. He did recall the feeling of claws digging into his waist, threatening to tear a chunk of flesh off if he so much as breathed wrong. He also recalled the moments preceding, where Qrow dug Harbinger’s blade in a cliff wall beside Clover’s head to put himself between him and a DIFFERENT Manticore. The captain relied on his semblance during the skirmish to the point of forgetting to really watch his back, and Qrow didn’t care to take that risk. Briefly, he could detail Clover’s stricken face as he called out his name.

There’s a natural temptation to throw this back at him, maybe to embarrass him a bit, maybe get him to think more about his reckless actions. But there’s a stronger temptation in front of him.

“If you feel so torn up about it, you could make it up to me by telling me about that rabbit’s foot.”

Clover froze. He took a deep breath, a wistful cloud visible in the cold, only managing a glance at Qrow before rubbing his hand across his chin. He could see his clenched jaw from this angle, yet when he turned back, a hesitant smile was plastered across his face. Placating, borderline patronizing if Qrow didn’t know better.

“Shouldn’t we maybe, I don’t know, discuss how we’re going to explain this to the General? Or figure out— ”

“Hell no, we’re stranded in the middle of fuck-all, the last thing I want to do is talk about work.” Qrow’s face twisted into an annoyed pout. “We can worry about it when we get on the ship. What, are you worried about the Grimm? Trust me, if one distressed person was enough to attract a hungry monster, I’d have a lot more bad luck than I already did.” He tried not to make the self-deprecation show on his smile, but Clover still shot him a stern, disapproving look.

“What? It’s nothing like that.” Clover rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes wandering in thought.

“Then it’s fine, right?”

Clover grimaced, his distaste unhindered. Qrow couldn’t help admitting he liked seeing the sour expression, this sort of “break” in character. Yet he still received a tired laugh. 

How unexpected...

“I _really_ don’t think it’s a story _you_ want to hear.” Clover turned his head away, his tone lilting with very straightforward implications. His stance gave away that he was somewhat willing, but careful. While a part of his brain warned him that perhaps Clover was right, he should stop prying, this’ll just hurt one of them in the end— 

Qrow carefully put his hands behind his head, a seemingly lazy smile on his face despite his injuries.

“I think I’ll manage.” Qrow playfully reassured. “Worst comes to worst, I’ll just tell you to shut up.”

Clover let out a chuckle again, his smile more sincere by the second. He leaned against the cave, his back against the wall and his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was guarded, which only piqued Qrow’s interest more as Clover started to speak. 

“The rabbit’s foot was a gift from my family, back before I entered Atlas Academy.” He stopped, and for a moment Qrow thought Clover would leave the story at that. But he saw the focus in his eyes as he prepared, fitting the pieces of his memory together nice and neat. “Back then I was incredibly superstitious; I’d avoid ladders, I’d take long detours to avoid black cats, I’d take every fortune or prediction to heart, and more. Looking back, I was a little nightmare.”

“Jury’s still out on the use of past tense.”

“Ha ha.” Even with a laugh as dry as a desert, an earnest smile sprouted on his face. Qrow had to keep himself from mirroring the smile, settling on a coy smirk. “My family wasn’t extraordinary, but we were very...”

“Fortunate?” 

“I was going to say ‘well-off,’ hahaha. They were both high-ranking huntsmen in the military.” Clover’s eyes sparkled for a moment, a couple of jewels adorning a sparkling, golden face as he reminisced. “Highly ranked and highly regarded. We lived comfortably, and the discovery of my semblance brought about little bits of fortune on top of that. Minor things like getting a bit of lien in the lottery, or winning silly prizes in contests.” Clover rubbed his chin, closing his eyes to better bring about the memories. “Funny enough, discovering my semblance was actually difficult at first because of my superstition. I often attributed things to my diligent rituals, so it took time to differentiate the two. And even after that, the concept of ‘luck’ eluded me for awhile.”

Qrow let a low chuckle escape. The images of a small, careful Clover dodging the paths of ladders and black cats were safely tucked away in the recesses of his mind. He certainly could relate, albeit for slightly different reasons, but he only nodded towards the captain to keep the momentum going. He’d hold off vocalizing his thoughts to keep the spell from breaking.

“Back then, when I had just begun training school,” Clover continued, his chin resting in his hands, “I dreamed of going to Atlas Academy. I must’ve used up all my allowance trying to buy charms and luck readings from the local fortune-teller before every exam. My parents gave me this rabbit's foot to save me from wasting too much lien and wish me the best. But they reassured me that it was just to help, and I needed to work hard to stand out. After that I carried it wherever I went, as a treasure. “ Clover brought his hand to the rabbit’s foot, his fingers gently petting the charcoal fur. Qrow tried not to stare too much, but he was relieved that the warmth returned to Clover’s face.

“Yes, fond memories. I had a lot of spirit as a kid, so I’m told. At that time, my sister was even on her way, so I must’ve been even more of a handful, hahahaha!”

Qrow reflexively lurched forward a bit, only to be met with searing pain. 

“Hey, Qrow!” Clover rushed over to gently set him back against the wall, his voice gently scolding. Qrow took a deep breath and tried to look Clover in the eye. 

“Your sister.”

Clover briefly glanced Qrow’s way. 

“You never mentioned her.”

Clover quickly averted his eyes, trying to feign ignorance as he drew his attention to Qrow’s injury, checking for bleeding. Shit, he hit a nerve. As guilt buzzed around his head, he at least needed to get the soldier to look at him again.

“Clover.”

He continued ignoring Qrow, still looking over the bandages with a forced focus. How is it that getting personal details from such an earnest man was like pulling teeth? Well, Qrow would be lying if he said he didn’t have an idea why. The man was mostly an open book, and yet somehow Qrow found himself testing the boundaries a bit. Performing a risk he didn’t know he was willing to wager, he persisted. 

“Cloves.”

“It just slipped out.” Clover said, his desperate tone catching Qrow by surprise before it faded back to a soft murmur. “I don’t talk about her much, that’s all.” His hands stilled on the spy’s waist, the touch scorching against his skin. Clover took a deep breath through his nose, his brow drawing together in thought like he was willing the words out. “I—”

A low rumble echoed within the cave, the walls vibrating with the cry of a waking creature. The huntsmen darted their heads up, trying to hear if any Grimm approached from outside. Instead they realized the origin wasn’t the mouth of the cave. They turned their gaze towards the caverns that receded back into the cave depths.

It was further in. 

Clover took a sharp inhale and got to his feet. “Looks like this cave isn’t as dormant as I thought. I’ll check it out.” Before he could make a full step, Clover felt a hand on his calf. 

“I’m going too.”

Clover couldn’t mask his exasperation as he sighed. “You’re clearly in no condition to fight Qrow, I’ll be—“

“In case you forgot,” Qrow interrupted, punctuated with a squeeze of his grip, “we’re BOTH injured, Ebi. I won’t fight, I just hate to be a sitting duck while you investigate solo. I’m going.” 

“Qrow.”

“Clover.”

They locked eyes, both trying to convey a futile message to the other. He swore several minutes passed before a deep, belabored sigh passed Clover’s lips, his entire form slumping in clear defeat. Qrow had to bite back a grin.

“Alright, alright.” Clover chuckled, the ghosts of tired mirth echoing across the cave walls. “If I don’t help you up, I’m sure you’ll hurt yourself trying to crawl your way over, huh?” He crouched down beside him, hands careful to lift without touching the wounds. Qrow put a hand against the rough cave wall as he collected himself.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a kid.” Qrow growled half-heartedly, shaking the sleep from his legs. “I’m pretty sure I’m your senior, show some respect.”

Clover stifled a snicker, his hands on his hips. “Ah yes, Mr. Branwen, sir. I’ll learn to respect my elders.”

“You’re lucky I’m reserving my energy, otherwise you’d have a bruise on your side, _Captain._ ”

Even with how hard he tried to suppress it, Clover let an unabashed chuckle loose. Likewise, Qrow failed to keep the smile creeping on his lips. He was glad he could ease his tension, if only for a moment; he’d rather see Clover giggle himself silly at his expense than let the air remain stale. Still trembling with soft laughter, Clover extended his hand and started to maneuver Qrow to resume their earlier walking positions, gripping Qrow’s waist while he held a large flashlight in his free hand. Qrow was suddenly too aware of how their bodies were pressed together with a dizzying sobriety. 

The pain of his wounds had dulled enough that he wasn’t as distracted, yet he desperately wished he had a distraction. He wasn’t some flustered, touch-starved teenager, yet his skin buzzed with something that decidedly wasn’t pain, even if he DID want to wince away like he grazed a heated metal. The dull, craggy cavern couldn’t even hold his attention long enough to forget the feeling. But as the pair walked past the threshold of the caverns, Qrow at least mustered the strength to speak up.

“Hey, Ebi, I’m real sorry for prying so much. I didn’t mean to dig up bad memories.”

Clover paused their walk for only a moment, long enough to tear his gaze away from the path ahead and take a good look at the man at his side. Qrow tried not to shrink under his gaze, and his guilt. This is why he never got into people’s personal business, he always took it too far. 

“It’s okay. I mean…” Clover’s eyes searched for a moment. “It’s not about bad memories, per se. I just worry about ruining the mood with unnecessary stuff.” 

“I don’t think talking about your family is unnecessary.”

“Yeah? Well I don’t hear you talking about your family outside your nieces...” Clover nearly gasped at his own bitter tone, quickly catching himself and backpedaling. “Ah, wait, sorry, I didn’t mean that, you don’t have to--” The brunet’s startled as Qrow snickers. He could stand to see such a proper guy be a little mean sometimes.

“Heh, nah that’s fair. Sometimes those sort of things can be pretty private. And I know I’m the pot calling the kettle black by bringing up privacy. I just wanna be clear…” Qrow tilted his head, rusty blood red meeting fresh dew green in a muddled, beguiling mixture. “I won’t be unnerved or disillusioned by you sharing what’s on your mind, no matter how heavy.”

A sad smile ghosted Clover’s lips as he nodded gratefully. They let their footsteps synchronize and echo through the cavern for a minute longer in silence.

“.....She passed when I was young. I didn’t really get to know her that well.” 

Qrow’s breath hitched. “Oh Clover, I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s nothing like that, I’m fine.” Clover wore an even, calculated expression, eyes not quite smiling. “It was a long time ago. I just worried about upsetting you. Or rather… I know bringing that sort of thing up isn’t a great way to keep morale up.” 

As he slowly untangled this new piece of Clover he was granted, Qrow briefly began to wonder how much he bottled up for the sake of convenience. How few people knew about his tragedies, his vulnerabilities. He could certainly relate, yet the idea felt foreign when he stared at him. How could such a kind, passionate man be keeping secrets like this? Yet here he was, baring a part of his heart to him, for whatever reason.

“You’re incredibly easy to talk to.”

Qrow blanched for a moment—did Clover read his face just now?—feeling his face sweat a bit as he turned his head away, feigning interest in the passing cave walls as his nose scrunched in a light sneer. “That doesn’t sound right.”

His fellow huntsman laughed, a genuinely pleasant sound that bounced through the cavern, and Qrow felt his body release tension he didn’t know he held. He fell quiet, the sound of their synchronized steps and Clover’s careful breaths permeating any other sound in his mind. Even while he stole glances, Qrow couldn’t stand to look Clover directly in the eye. Instead he observed the creases on his forehead, the grey hairs that started to line the sides of his face, the curve of his jaw, his...

Qrow knew none of this was his business in the first place—listening this far already satisfied his demands—but a surprising curiosity arose that he couldn’t shake. Like he wanted to help bear the burden in Clover’s heart, and cradle this secret side of him like a fragile light only he could see. Which was strange, perhaps creepy, but ultimately present; an itch in the back of his brain. 

“Do you still want to hear it?”

Qrow properly looked Clover’s way. His calm expression faced steadily forward, though he could tell there was a tension in his jaw. But he didn’t look afraid. Just pensive. 

“Only if you’re willing to tell it.” Qrow reiterated, trying decidedly to level his tone between light and earnest. 

Silence permeated the space for a few moments more, stopping to readjust his hold on Qrow, the brushing moments of contact sending sparks between them. His boots suddenly felt more resolute in their steps, his grip around Qrow squeezing every now and then. Qrow would be lying if he said he wasn’t aware of his situation, of their respective vulnerabilities and their temptations. But he listened as Clover found his words. 

“Besides my rabbit’s foot being a relic of my childhood superstitions, it also served as the memory of a particular turning point in my life. It grounds me and reminds me of why I do this. Of the time before my family passed.”

Qrow felt like the floor nearly shifted under him, finding himself trying really hard not to lean and topple on Clover. A part of his mind screamed this was too much, you hardly know this man and you’ll never be able to pour your heart in this way, if you keep listening you’ll never be able to return the favor. But Qrow stared resolutely on, nodding slightly for Clover to keep going.

“...We went on a trip. My family liked the city life of Atlas, but loved the cozy warmth of the wild. It was still a bit on the cushy side, a sturdy cabin with amenities away from the Atlesian bustle. I forgot the particular reason...”

The light flickered out. Clover shook the device and muttered a quiet ‘shit’ as another roar thundered through the tunnel. They were getting closer. The tension in the air became more tactile as Clover readjusted and continued.

“There were a couple of neighbors in the area. We all knew each other well, and we’d get together for potlucks or whatever. The only other kid there was a boy named Rune, my best friend at the time. I really liked him.” While he spoke with a wistful fondness, his sentence hit a hard pause. A peek found Clover staring, careful and calculating, like he needed to parse Qrow’s reaction (or lack of one). He averted his gaze, clearly caught, and took a breath. He tried not to stall too much in his story, but Qrow could tell it was difficult. 

“But it was a good 20 minute walk between cabins, so we often didn’t see each other immediately unless plans were made in advance. We didn’t hear from anyone the night we came in, so I think we figured they were just away at home. Usually that neck of the woods was pretty safe.”

 _Usually_. 

As Qrow rolled the word in his head a bit, Clover slowed to a stop, briefly waving his flashlight to confirm the pervasive darkness ahead. They had come to an opening to a massive chamber of the cave, bigger than the area near the cave entrance, the daunting structure and sounds of an unseen beast interrupting the story beats. But the path of the story was suddenly clear in Qrow’s mind, and his muscles tensed instinctively. Clover steadied Qrow before settling him down by the tunnel mouth, giving him the flashlight and a smile in an obvious attempt to quell his fears. Yet Qrow still tried to reach out.

“Hey, Ebi, wait—!”

“What we didn’t realize,” Clover continued, his voice joining the echoes of the cave, “was that a roaming pack of Ursa had ransacked the neighboring cabins the previous nights...”

From the pitch black, announced by debris falling from far-up stalactites, scarlet eyes finally faced the two in fiery glows. What emerged into dim light was what could only be described as a colossal Centinel Grimm, frostbitten rock protruding from its body. Where there were once fragile legs and thin midsections, now there were shelled claws and a chitin-fortified carapace, an intimidating mix of Grimm matter and cave. This creature has lived here a long time, and had the time to adapt to the secluded terrain and grow stronger. And from the darkness chittered what could only be more Grimm, likely normal Centinels that the giant was protecting.

Qrow’s mind ran into overdrive; they needed backup, they needed to retreat fast, hoping that the caverns were maybe a bit too small for the big guy, but he knew it was too late. And he knew Clover had the same thoughts too. He watched as Clover’s profile drew focused, almost angry at his particular angle.

“They finally made it to our cabin that night.”

The Grimm’s pincers clacked and rattled as it acknowledged Clover, Kingfisher gripped tightly at his side. Qrow could see his right arm trembling and twitching ever so slightly; he surely felt the strain that his cuts granted him. With a searing shriek, the Grimm lunged at startling speed, and Qrow sucked in sharp breath as Clover launched his hook over its maw with a running start. 

With a desperate swiftness, he propelled himself as his hook caught on one of the Grimm’s plates, swerving around the body towards its back, trying to search for a weakness. They had no idea if this thing could climb walls like its smaller counterparts, but neither had the luxury to wait and find out. The Grimm writhed, its claws digging into the rocky cave floor as it tried to skitter away. Clover crouched down with hands splayed across the chitin, keeping low to try to fight against falling from the bucking Centinel. Sure enough, it twisted its upper body in a way that had Clover dangling upside down by his fishing line, the hook finally unraveling and sending the huntsman to the stony floor. Qrow couldn’t help but wince at the sound of his back hitting the rubble, a cloud of dust rising from it.

Clover gasped, not from pain or exhaustion, but in revelation, and suddenly started sprinting towards the right side of the Centinel. It only took Qrow a moment to see what Clover had spotted: between the plates on the colossal’s head and the armored carapace, black Grimm flesh peaked out. An opportunity. But considering Clover’s weapon, a final blow wasn’t going to be an easy feat; even as Kingfisher’s hook sailed towards a craggy spike on its head this time, the Grimm was quickly noting Clover’s patterns. It shook and whipped its head to hit his body away and send him flying towards his flank side instead.

He still held tightly onto his weapon— his lifeline— as he elected to use it more like a climbing rope and start reeling it in, feet walking across the body. Qrow held his breath a bit, feeling restless; he just needed to get the line around that neck area, and tug it hard enough to cut through. Fortified armor could only make up so much, and the matter underneath was sure to be vulnerable enough to give way under enough pressure. The trick was going to be setting up the scenario. Qrow finally let out a deep, belabored sigh, trying his best to keep himself from jumping into the fray.

Finally, as Clover again reached the back of the beast with a grunt, he briefly paused to consider how to approach wrapping the line. Even with the mere size of this creature being a substantial obstacle, it only took Clover a moment of resolution to make Qrow’s heart nearly stop. He jumped off the opposite side, swinging with his pole in hand underneath the Centinel’s jaw onto the other side. It wasn’t a complete wraparound, but it’d serve well enough for their purposes. This was all falling into place, all he needed to do was— 

Suddenly, the Grimm roared, a piercing sound loud enough to stutter Clover’s stance and knock him to his knees, his face scrunched in pain. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he tried to regain his stance, the colossal monster rearing itself up. Qrow’s mind stuttered, a bolt of panic rushing through him. He’s so close, the Grimm’s going to move before he regains the momentum to make the killing strike, even with his knuckles turning white gripping his weapon, he’s not going to make it, it’s going to strike him instead, Qrow needed to do _something._

Clover coughed harshly against the dirt and dust.

His vision threatened to go black from pain.

Instead, a flurry of black feathers passed him by.

Clover blinked away whatever stars scattered his vision, and glanced back to where Qrow sat beside the cavern wall. Or, where he was supposed to be, a flashlight instead keeping his place warm. The initial panic was plain on his face before he spotted Qrow proper. 

Underneath the side of the Centinel, Qrow was on his back, legs pressing on the ground as his sword held the creature from moving. Harbinger’s blade buried itself in the shell of the beast, the metal shrieking against the hard surface, but refusing to buckle. Qrow’s teeth are bared as he strains his body, ordering it to ignore his screaming muscles. In his peripherals, Clover was regaining his stance, the line still graciously secured around the Grimm’s neck. He only had a moment to gasp a breath before Qrow called for him.

“Clover NOW!!!”

Summoning all the strength left in his arms, Clover roared as he swung both arms overhead and brought Kingfisher down. The line only hesitated for a moment before the force sliced clean through the Grimm’s head, like a wire through wet clay. The shock of the decapitation jolted the Centinel’s slowly dissolving body, the sound of metal scraping rock resounding as Harbinger finally twisted out of Qrow’s grip across the cave floor. Almost in slow motion, the head of the Centinel started to fall towards the huntsmen, the cave rumbling as the massive monster’s body fell limp and and the surrounding Grimm retreated with high-pitched shrieks. 

Of course, the skull’s crash course aimed straight for Qrow’s prone body. He tried not to grit his teeth too hard, only taking a moment to glance between his sword and a stricken Clover before electing to lay flat with his arms up in a weak defense. He took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut to brace for the impact, vaguely hearing Clover shout something amid the chaos.

While he felt _something_ hit his body, the harsh impact he expected never really came. Instead, he cracked an eye open to see the Grimm’s corpse gone, face and all. Luckily the head dissipated into black smoke before it hit the ground, or before it added more injuries to his already aching body. Luckily, luckily, luckily.

The impact he felt, he quickly discovered, was Clover’s body pressed against his once again. He protectively hugged the back of Qrow’s head and torso with shaking arms, his own back facing where the Grimm once stood. Ahh, he kind of understood how others felt when he would throw himself in danger now. What a terrible feeling. What a stupid thing, too. He carefully patted Clover’s shoulder as he made a motion to sit up, yet Clover only squeezed tighter. Even as his heartbeat grew rapid and warm from the gesture, he couldn’t see himself making it out alive if Clover beared down on him for too long. 

After a minute or so of internal battle, Qrow rocked the two of them upwards towards a proper sitting position with a strained grunt. The momentum combined with his exhaustion caused Clover to finally let go and fall back onto the cold cave floor with a resounding ‘thud.’ Qrow crouched beside him, the captain’s eyes screwed shut in some sort of pain.

“Clover?” Qrow called, “Hey, you still awake? You better not have a concussion—”

“I was the only one left.”

Clover’s tired eyes opened to stare at the ceiling, the sentence gently spoken between gasps of breath like a terrible confession. His chest stuttered to regain composure and, as his arm was thrown over his face, neither could tell if what ran down Clover’s cheeks were sweat or tears. Qrow wouldn’t shame him either way. 

He sat with Clover’s story of his family in his brain, all connected to something as benign as a rabbit’s foot, the pieces all clicking into place. Even though the story itself followed a common tragedy amongst huntsmen, there was something else to it. A sentence hung unsaid between them. A statement usually so effortless suddenly became damning, and Qrow knew better than to say it himself. Because he knew what the feeling in his gut was about. It wasn’t just the death of a family that weighed heavy on his mind, but the circumstances of being left behind. The circumstances of his survival.

**_You were lucky._ **

“Sorry.” Clover dragged a hand over his face to wipe away dust and sweat, revealing a complicated expression. He tried to rub at his puffy eyes, grumbling a ‘this is stupid’ in an uncharacteristic moment of exhaustion. He was still regaining control of his breath, and averted his gaze towards the vast chasm surrounding the two. “I, uh, went a bit overboard.” Clover scratched his head, his tone suddenly much more casual as a typical smile crept on his face. He was slipping back. He was finally feeling too raw and was starting to retreat. And the sight filled Qrow with a unique flavor of regret. 

Qrow extended his hand. 

Clover paused from his bashful motions, first staring at the hand, then locking eyes with him. Qrow was only sitting up while Clover was flat on his back, and he could see Clover processing while he silently put his hand in Qrow’s. Still taking shallow breaths for air, he followed Qrow’s lead by sitting himself up, grasping the hand that helped him for a minute too long. 

“You idiot.” Qrow rasped. Clover looked startled, perplexed as a weary smile painted Qrow’s face. “You’re always apologizing without thinking, especially when it’s unnecessary.”

His shoulders dropped a bit, not quite hunched over, but not making a real effort to sit upright. A bell sound follows a message alert from Clover’s scroll; no doubt an update on their retrieval. Yet Clover doesn’t make an effort to take it out, his hands splayed on his lap as his energy seeped out.

“I need… a moment still.” Clover looked a bit ashamed, his breaths still shallow, face still a bit flushed. “I’m sorry, sorry, just give me a second and—”

“Hey, what’d I just say? I’d rather we sit here and have help come get us than risk you hurting yourself even more. I’m pretty sure we scared any remaining Grimm off by killing their guardian, we’re safe. Take a breath, soldier.” Clover does just that, trying to keep a steady breath as Qrow resists the urge to rub his shoulders. “You can keep telling me stuff to pass the time, it’s your call.”

After another deep, stabilizing breath, Clover nodded firmly.

“I was found by the Atlas military shortly after.” He said, his words flowing back with ease while his heart pounded in his chest. “They took me in, and my family’s notoriety in the ranks meant they were willing to pull some strings and essentially secure me a spot in training and acceptance into the academy.” A thoughtful pause. He always pegged the soldier as a smooth talker, so seeing how he took such careful steps to think of what to say next really tugged at Qrow’s heart. “When I got into the military, Ironwood often oversaw my progress personally. Even with his status, he felt like a close friend in that time. Someone I could rely on to help me down whatever path I chose. And I was basically supported through the rest of my career.”

Clover placed a hand over his heart, grazing the metal of his pin before it traveled up to his head, pulling at the hairs at the base of his neck. His nervous chuckle echoed through the cave. “I told you, it wasn’t a great story.” He vaguely waved his hand a bit as if to waft the conversation away, his face relatively level with layers of embarrassment and shame prickling underneath. “And I ended up rambling too. And sort of bragging? Hahaha.”

He tried to not let his scoff sound too harsh. “I already told you, stop worrying about that sort of thing.” Qrow could feel Clover’s eyes on him, almost afraid to gaze into them but eventually relenting. He _needed_ to face him. Otherwise Clover’s conviction might quickly fade. Clover sighed, a deep exhausted breath like he had a burden he wasn’t willing to let go, as he put his head in his hands. Qrow spoke up again. “I mean, you’re telling all me this because I’m easy to talk to, right?”

“Well, actually, I especially didn’t want to tell you for obvious reasons.” Clover met eyes with Qrow through the space between his fingers, his eyes suddenly looking a bit annoyed. But as he dragged his hands down his face, it revealed a typically flirty smile. “But yes, I do admit you gave that air about you.”

“Still disagree.”

Clover rubbed the back of his neck, dragging his hand down towards his pin again.

“After that, I uh,” Clover murmured, “I fell into a really bad state. Besides the general grieving, I had an incredibly bad case of survivor's guilt.” He laughed lightly, despite the weight of his words. “I couldn’t protect anyone, and every time someone got close to me I feared it might happen again. I know that’s a lot for a kid to bear but at the time I wished it was me. Wished I could give my luck to someone else.”

Perspective was a hell of a thing. 

Qrow clenched his fist for a moment. If Clover saw it, he made no indication. He turned his eyes towards Qrow and gods, the amount of times he’d been so vulnerable just in this one day made him feel a bit special at this point. Even though it pained him all the same. But now, seeing how effortlessly he slipped right back out, he knew he could never see this smile the same way again.

“I know the feeling of despising your own power.” His eyes narrowed, as if his own words stung him. “And you’re entitled to that. Especially when faced with something like... that.” He made a vague gesture towards Clover with his bandaged hand. “It can leave you feeling helpless, and you feel crazy trying to explain to other people. Like it doesn’t feel real. But...” His words felt like they were just spilling out of his mouth, uninhibited and honest. He felt like he owed it to the man that just laid his heart bare for him. A heart that was more guarded than he could have imagined. A heart he suddenly wanted to keep safe. And the captain’s expression, green eyes shifting in the light like rhythmic waves on a lakeside, looked so relieved yet so unmoored in the face of Qrow’s words. Like he didn’t deserve them. 

“But whether you’re tethered to life by luck, fate, trinkets, or whatever... I’m glad you’re here.”

And suddenly, the hand that was making vague gestures is captured in calloused, gentle hands. His wiry, pale hand is held between their knees, palm up as Clover’s rough, yet impossibly soft thumbs trace the lines that aren’t hidden under the bandana. For a second Qrow thought it was another gesture of fragility, but quickly noticed the difference: his hold was now full of reverence.

And the man had the audacity to look SHY. 

“Thank you, Qrow. I really appreciate your words.” Clover’s smile looked a bit wobbly as he retreated one hand to unhook the rabbit’s foot off his belt, holding it up to inspect. “After everything, it just became this thing that held onto their memory. It reassured me now and then. It’s a difficult thing to show other people, considering I need to be a leader. And I still wasn’t sure I wanted to tell you. But I knew you’d understand.” Qrow felt his chest flutter. Must’ve been a leftover burst of adrenaline from facing death earlier. He pointedly shrugged it off.

“If it helps at all,” Qrow mused, “I had a sister. Or, rather, we’re estranged, for better words.” Before Clover could let the ‘sorry’ leave his lips, Qrow put up a hand. “Thanks, but don’t get too twisted up over it. We have different values and I’ve come to accept that. Even then, I know it’s hard to lose family. Especially when you feel like there was something you could do. But you gotta keep living.”

Clover leaned forward slightly, trying to catch Qrow’s expression, or even commit it to memory. He doubted Clover could find anything. Yet Clover’s expression shifted still, radiating with understanding. Perhaps a hint of pride?

“Maybe you’ll tell me more about her sometime? Or perhaps disclose any other wild secrets you keep?” Ahh, Clover’s mischievous grin pierced through Qrow’s serious expression, and the bark of a cackle escaped. He knew he wasn’t pushing, or even trying to forcefully correct the imbalance in their knowledge. The layer underneath said ‘it’s the same for me,’ welcoming Qrow to open up again, to trust him. Instead of answering, he gave Clover a raw smile before shifting into a playful look, and their delirious snickering rang through the chasm. God they needed to get home.

Right on cue, before they could let their peels of laughter escalate to tears, an alert from Clover’s pocket cut through their moment. He whipped the scroll out, his eyes quickly scanning the message before he let out a sigh of relief.

“The ship will be here any minute. And I feel like I have enough energy to make it back. Or at least meet them halfway.” Before Qrow could raise an objection, Clover put his hand up, attempting to mirror Qrow’s earlier sentiment. “I’m okay to go. I promise.” 

The last two words took Qrow by surprise. His earnest nature never ceased to amaze him. With a deep breath, Clover got to his feet in a single motion, his creaking bones echoing in the cavern. Despite being walloped by Grimm more than once, he regained his chipper, customer-service disposition and served up a smile. Though, this time, the smile traveled to his eyes as well, and Qrow felt another wave of relief as he took his hand. 

Considering their states, Qrow and Clover opted to use the cavern walls as their support, carefully tracing them back to allow Clover’s shoulder some relief, though he insisted on leading with the flickering flashlight. Qrow decided not to fight it as he let his mind wander in the comfortable silence. Once they got back to base, his first order of business would be sleep. Maybe a shower if fortune granted him any solace. Ahh, he’d need to sharpen Harbinger sometime too, it took quite a beating today and hell if he’s not going to keep his weapon— 

“Ah, I’ll have to call and apologize to the shelter, I don’t think I’ll be able to assist the kids with volunteer work in my condition.”

This guy and fucking WORK. 

“Well then I guess you dodged a bullet; what if a black cat needed to be adopted? Can’t have you crying at the job.” Qrow tried not to let his wicked grin break his face as Clover shot him an unimpressed smile, complete with a raised eyebrow. 

“I said I _was_ scared of black cats. Was. Past tense. I find them very cute. Especially recently.”

Qrow raised an eyebrow. _Especially_ recently? But as thoughts rapidly passed through his brain, Clover slowed to a stop and nearly _projected_ his thoughts to Qrow as he turned towards him, expression laid open. And Qrow was too slow to catch himself before reading it.

_‘They remind me of you.’_

He’s forced to turn towards the cavern wall by his own searing shame as Clover resumed his careful walk. Bastard was using it against him now, how downright conniving! Qrow tried to scrub the heat off his face with his free hand, grumbling something about a goofy-looking face as they finally returned to the first cave area. He could hear Clover’s chuckle rumble in the open space.

“So you’re going to rest once we get to base, right?” Clover shot him a smile that was still warm, but had an undertone of his usual teasing. Ahh, the bastard was back, and Qrow was already behind on the game as his face still radiated with embarrassment. Not to mention the idiot already seemed to forget he just fought a giant armored Centinel while already wounded. 

“I’ll rest if you take some time to heal too.”

“Hmm. Well if you insist. Maybe I’ll spend the day off keeping an eye on you.” Typical.

“Hey, maybe _I’ll_ keep an eye on _you_ over a game of cards, or some lunch.”

Clover blinked as his face tinged a warmer hue, clearly caught off-guard by the seamless rebuttal, yet definitely excited by the proposal. He slipped into a bright, unhindered smile, one that melted the frostbitten rock.

“Sounds good to me.”

Another burst of adrenaline pumped blood through his heart. Qrow’s analytical, huntsman brain considered letting his eyes drift (to assess his surroundings, of course), but his focus couldn’t quite tear away from his beaming grin. He’d deny any implication it was infectious, even as the corners of his mouth twitched. He’d absolutely refuse the notion that Clover was having any influence on his behavior whatsoever, or that maybe even his “good luck” was rubbing off on him in some way.

He’d swear, though, that in his peripheral he saw Clover’s hand move ever so slightly around something on his hip. And he let himself slip into a casual smirk as the two walked towards the rescue ship.

**Author's Note:**

> I hoped you enjoyed this! This is my first time writing and posting fanfiction in nearly 10 years. I decided to try my hand again as a side hobby, editing bit by bit in my free time, and it proved to be a nice exercise (though it ended up really long). I do this entirely solo tho, separate from all my other work, so please feel free to give reviews or point out any glaring mistakes! 
> 
> As for the fic itself, I thought about writing a fix-it fic for Volume 7, but instead decided to write out something a bit indulgent: a hypothetical scenario that set up a past for Clover, as well as some spoken feelings that allowed him and Qrow to become even closer. Because of that, there's a lot based on personal headcanon and general liberties I've taken. I don’t really see myself making any more RWBY fanfics but I hope you liked it all the same!


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